


January White (Love Is a Stain)

by Dovakiin



Category: South Park
Genre: Best Friends, M/M, New Year's Eve, Requited Love, Stupid Assholes, a little bit of angst, but mostly a whole shitload of shameless fluff lol, there isn't sex but i might add a smutty bonus chapter if it gets enough views
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 14:37:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5748184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dovakiin/pseuds/Dovakiin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I have never been in love,” he replied shortly.</p><p> “Really?” Clyde asked him, leaning forward. The noirette’s blue eyes met Clyde’s greens, and as their gazes locked he felt something bubble up his throat, but he held it down. “C’mon, Craig. Not even once? Fallen in love? Even if it was just for a little while?” </p><p>“There is a world of differences, Clyde,” Craig sternly snapped, “between falling in love and being in love.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	January White (Love Is a Stain)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The WeCryde group](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=The+WeCryde+group).



> This wasn't originally intended to be a full fan fiction but I decided to write it as one after the positive feedback I received after sharing it with WeCryde's Skype group. So it's dedicated to them, naturally. I'll hopefully finish it soon. I haven't ever published anything for the South Park fandom, so any and all feedback will be immensely appreciated!!!

“Have you ever been in love?” 

  
The floor was horribly dirty beneath their feet, the table had smudges on it that wouldn't come off when Craig rubbed his thin fingers against the wooden surface, and his coffee had thickened so heavily that when he attempted to drink it — just to fiddle with _something_ while he was sitting across from the athlete — it felt more like honey going down his throat than the beverage that had tasted so good two hours ago. His eyes ached because of the florescent lights above them. They were too bright. Too annoying. 

 

But his mind focused far from his settings. He swallowed more of his disgusting coffee, almost choked, and set it back down on to the table with a sour expression that wasn’t just caused by the foul taste in his mouth. 

 

“I have never been in love,” he replied shortly.

  
“Really?” Clyde asked him, leaning forward. The noirette’s blue eyes met Clyde’s greens, and as their gazes locked he felt something bubble up his throat, but he held it down. “C’mon, Craig. Not even once? Fallen in love? Even if it was just for a little while?” 

 

“There is a _world_ of differences, Clyde,” Craig sternly snapped, “between _falling_ in love and _being_ in love.” 

 

His best friend was dumbfounded, yet the teenager remained patient. He sighed and shook his head, reaching forward and jabbing his finger deep down into his bland coffee. As he’d suspected, it clung to his thin finger, sliding across and dipping down into the beginning of a drop, but never actually falling. Craig used his other hand to grab Clyde’s wrist, and he wiped the lukewarm dollop against his best friend’s skin. “ _This_ is falling in love,” he told him while looking him straight in the eye. The drop was drippy and begun to slide and make a mess, but before it could travel too much further, Craig quickly swiped its entirety back on to his finger in one motion and stuck it into his mouth. Clyde went red, and he didn’t know why. 

 

Craig noticed this. He felt his chest lurch again, like a parrot trapped in a canary cage. “And this,” he murmured as he grabbed his arm — the other one this time — and twisted it around until he found that dark freckle Clyde always hated, the one that was larger than the others and didn't fade in the winter time like the rest of them seemed to, the one that was possibly more of a birthmark than a freckle, though Clyde would never admit it, “is _being_ in love.” Craig took his finger, licked it, and wiped it against the mark, hard, as if he was trying to scrub it off. 

 

Clyde’s breath caught softly in his throat, and for a moment, they sat like that, their eyes boring into one another’s, as if the trance was caused more by the emptiness of the diner, the dark vacantness of night outside their booth window, and the contrast of the darkness to that of the bright, annoying florescent lights. Love was a stain, Craig was saying, and if anything in the world claimed to be more truth than that, in that instant, Clyde would outlive humanity arguing otherwise. 

 

When the brunette found his voice, it was small, breathy, and trembling. 

 

“Then… have you ever been stained?” 

 

Again their eyes met. There was a mutual understanding which stated that the question was to either never be answered, or it already had been by the silence that followed, as Craig did not speak again, but wiped his finger timidly on the napkin he had balled up in his fist. 

***

It was four days after Christmas, and Clyde had just returned from visiting family for the holidays. They always met up with each other the day after they were both back in town — when they were younger it was, of course, with parental supervision, and for the sole purpose to show off their presents to each other, as if desiring to simultaneously boast and stir envy, but also share something truly exciting — and then as they got older, tradition stuck as it always would, like a stain, and they kept visiting each other until it was no longer about bragging rights over gifts but to talk over bad cups of coffee and stay up too late laughing together and endlessly annoying the diner waitresses.

 

In three more days, it would be New Years’ Eve. After New Years’, they’d have to return to school to complete the second half of their senior year — but Craig couldn’t help but feel as if something was going to happen. Something was going to change, and it was simultaneously terrifying and exciting, and altogether electrifying. 

 

“You boys need to buy something else or leave,” croaked an old, waving voice beside the noirette’s ear, and he jumped out of his trance. His eyes found the waitress’ with a huff. 

 

“Fine,” he droned. “Just give us a minute.” 

 

The woman — Helga, to be exact — let out an exasperated sigh, rolled her eyes, and waddled unhappily back toward the kitchen. He watched her leave, eyed the way her bony, witchy fingers grasped her coffee mug so tightly that each knuckle was as white as the snow that had begun to stack outside. Clyde snickered emptily, and Craig sighed, pushing his back harder against the worn booth so to stretch the arm that he had flung over it. “Guess it’s time to go,” he muttered flatly. 

 

"Yeah, guess so," the brunette echoed. Craig could tell Clyde was beginning to sense that there was something off. However, whether or not he noticed it Craig wouldn't know for certain. Clyde didn't do anything. That was normal, of course, because he never did, not unless the issue was immediate, like when they got into one of their fights. There were a lot of them. With a strange friendship like the one the two teenagers shared, there was bound to be. Craig and Clyde weren't anything like one another. It was a miracle they were friends at all. Clyde was a jock: beloved member of the variety football team, flirter with any poor girl who had somewhat nice boobs, not the brightest student otherwise. Craig, on the other hand, didn't fit into any spectrum. He got himself into fights, didn't participate in any extracurricular activities, and was classified by nearly everyone else as a grade-A pain in the ass. 

 

That was fine though. It was what made their friendship so terribly interesting. 

 

Clyde didn't confront Craig on his sudden mood swing, and Craig didn't speak of it either. They both stood simultaneously, stretched, and left the diner without so much of a glance at one another, exiting one by one out through the diner's swingy door. The sound of gravel crunching beneath his feet further awakened Craig to his senses, and his eyes struggled to adjust to the chilly midnight air that welcomed them as they left the diner's light. 

 

"Home, then?" Clyde asked, and the other nodded silently. 

 

Craig hadn't ever  _been_ in love. Stained. Not that he was aware of. He'd fallen in and out of it throughout the years as any teenager would, first with a cheerleader from a different school, next with Red. As good looking as Craig was, it was never enough. His relationships always ended terribly. They'd get angry with him for being too aloof, or cold, or get jealous because he would usually end up falling out of love with them rather quickly, and prefer hanging out with Clyde than even speaking to them aside from an occasional text. They'd break up with him. Craig wouldn't be sad. Rinse and repeat.

 

There had never been one person who stuck with him like Clyde's birthmark. They came and went. Eventually, Craig discovered that his boredom with the fairer sex was nonetheless a hint toward his preference for men, something that he still had a difficult time accepting. Nobody knew of it, hell, not even Clyde. 

 

Clyde. 

 

There was no consistency in his life except for  _Clyde._ Sometimes when you meet somebody, it's so clear that the two of you, on some level, absolutely belong together. As lovers or friends or as something entirely different. Craig knew this. And it applied to him and Clyde, but he'd always just thought they clicked as friends... Never had he even  _explored_ the possibility of them being anything more, until now. The noirette's tongue darted across his lips to wet them nervously. His eyes shot across the front row to Clyde, sitting in the driver's seat, his eyes trained thoughtfully towards the road. 

 

Craig's breath caught into his throat. 

 

The moonlight had cast a certain hue across the points of the varsity player's masculine face. His skin shone and his eyes, beautifully emerald, twinkled. They always twinkled, but that night, it was as if every ray of light left as a remnant in the dark was directed straight into Clyde's pupils, and they shone, so brightly that Craig feared they would rename the stars. 

 

His trance was broken as the car jolted to a halt in the middle of his driveway. Clyde turned to look at him obliviously and smile. 

 

"Thanks for tagging along. I'm glad you had a great Christmas," he drawled. 

 

"Yeah," Craig croaked, "No problem."

 

His heart skipped a frantic beat. He opened his mouth to say something, and almost did. Almost. The small remainder of 2015 could have turned out entirely differently if he had. But he didn't. 

 

Craig hurriedly turned and fought his way out of the car, and shot his best friend a parting glance. "See you on New Years' Eve," Clyde grinned, and Craig felt his heart collide against his ribcage rebelliously. 

 

"Yeah. See you then." 

 

Without one more second of hesitation, Craig hurried to his house and slammed the door shut. 


End file.
